


Ambition is Critical

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Alternate Universe - Human, Assistant Stiles, Blow Jobs, M/M, Modeling, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-07
Updated: 2013-10-07
Packaged: 2017-12-28 17:20:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/994552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“God, you’re hot,” Stiles will say later, when they’ve relocated to the bedroom, “you should be a model.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ambition is Critical

They meet at LAX. 

As far as meeting places go, it’s not particularly romantic. Not that either of them expected to get a romance out of it. Stiles is Lydia Martin’s Personal Assistant, just while he’s finishing up his degree, and Derek Hale is the latest model to sign onto Whittemore Martin Agency. 

Lydia had meant to be here, meant to welcome Derek Hale to Los Angeles, his new home, after first scouting him in their hometown of Beacon Hills last year. It had taken Derek a while to actually call her back, even longer to agree to moving to LA, but he finally packed up all of his belonging and got on a plane, and that’s how he got here; awkwardly standing in his arrival gate, looking around for the strawberry-blonde woman who promised to change his life.

Instead, he got Stiles. 

Stiles Stilinski with his leather messenger bag thrown across one shoulder, the strap obscuring whatever witty design was sure to be on his shirt, and three cups of coffee and a dossier being juggled around in his hands. 

He approaches Derek, handing him a coffee and the dossier before he introduces himself.

Derek takes the coffee and the dossier, not knowing what else to do, because he doesn’t know this kid, and he definitely looks like a kid, and he doesn’t know where Lydia is.

He’s already slightly terrified of LA. So far, his fears appear to be justified.

“Shit, sorry,” Stiles says upon seeing a look of utter terror on Derek’s face, “I guess Lydia didn’t tell you I was picking you up.”

He turns around and just walks away, like he’s expecting Derek to follow him, and pauses to turn back when he realises Derek’s not actually beside him.

“Are you coming?” Derek slowly walks forward, taking a tentative mouthful of coffee when he realises the side of the cup has “Derek” scrawled across it, and flips open the dossier which he now realises details the apartment he’d bought when Lydia had given her advice.

“So, I’m Stiles, Lydia’s PA. She was hoping to be here, but one of the models had a bitch fit over a shoot and she had to intervene before Jackson had an aneurysm. I don’t know if you’ve met Jackson yet, but you probably won’t have a lot to do with him,” Stiles takes a turn, heading toward baggage claim, “which is a good thing.”

Stiles stops suddenly, pulling back and turning to Derek as if there’s a mistake he needs to correct, “Jackson’s good, don’t get me wrong,” he starts walking again, leaving Derek behind once more but that doesn’t stop him from talking, “between Lydia and Jackson, you’ll be able to work for any brand you want to. Even Jackson by himself is good, probably one of the best agents in the business, don’t tell him I said that, but he can be a bit of a dick, or as much of one as he’s always been. We went to school together,” he finally offers at Derek’s questioning look.

“How long have you been working for them?”

“I work for Lydia, not Whittemore Martin,” Stiles shrugs, “officially? The last couple of months.”

“Unofficially?” Derek asks, following Stiles through the crowd gathered around the conveyor belts.

Stiles shrugs, “Since I met her in high school,” he grins at that, like he’s recalling a fond memory, and Derek almost wants to ask what it is but then he notices his luggage coming around.

“They’re mine,” he says, pointing at his bags, as he steps forward to collect them with Stiles’ assistance.

**

Derek’s first shoot is a nightmare. 

He doesn’t even know whether he’s supposed to be modelling the shoes he’s wearing or the jeans that are too tight and unbuttoned, or if it’s meant to be the black briefs that are clearly on display beneath the jeans. 

He thinks he should probably know this, but he doesn’t really care as long as it all ends with the promised pay check.

Lydia’s on-set, tapping away on her Blackberry as she stands behind the director, nodding her head whenever the flash of the camera goes off. 

It’s a promising sign, and so is the way Stiles is looking at Derek from his position beside Lydia. 

The pair, Lydia and Stiles, are whispering conspiratorially whenever Derek looks up, and he so desperately wants to know what they’re saying that he actually misses one of the directions he’s given. 

He apologises when the director barks his name, and resolves to not care so much about what they’re saying.

He breaks his resolve three minutes later when Lydia looks Derek up and down in an almost-predatory manner, before leaning in and whispering something that leaves Stiles blushing.

**

He’s been in LA for three months when he walks out of the shower, nothing but a towel draped over his hips, and finds Stiles sitting on the sofa. He doesn’t even seem to notice Derek at first, just sits back with his eyes closed and his feet sprawled out on the floor in front of him.

Stiles has only been over once before, after that first shoot when Lydia said they had to celebrate a job well done (and Stiles maybe celebrated a little too hard and ended up crashing on Derek’s sofa when he explained he lived Lydia and was in the process of being sexiled), but now he looks comfortable as if he’s here as much as he’s at his own apartment.

Though, that may be true. Derek has never seen the kid with his hands completely free of either a textbook or laptop, and he’s always sighing about having to go straight back to the library after he finishes up with his stuff for Lydia.

“Stiles?” Derek asks, clenching his hands tighter around the towel to make sure it doesn’t slip. 

Stiles startles at that, looking up to where Derek’s standing half-naked, breathing out, “Oh my God” under his breath like he can’t quite hold it in.

“What are you doing here?”

Stiles shakes his head, like he’s trying to force his head out of a particular thought, before answering, “Lydia told me I had to pick you up for that thing.”

“That thing? How very specific,” but then he remembers what shoot Lydia had kept asking him to do, the one he’d continually refused, and thinks he knows what this is, “No. I’m not doing the shoot for Argent Studios. No.”

Stiles frowns, and stands up, pulling his ever-present messenger bag with him, “That’s not where we’re going, dude. Lydia is your agent, and she’s not going to make you do something you don’t want to do if you keep refusing. Even if she did, which she wouldn’t because that’s more Jackson’s style, then I wouldn’t help her.”

Derek feels his grip loosening on the towel, but doesn’t exactly register it until he notices Stiles’ focus slipping until he’s blatantly staring at the now-exposed trail of coarse hair that disappears beneath Derek’s towel.

Derek feels something in his chest clench, when he asks, “You wouldn’t?”

Stiles shakes his head, looking up and meeting Derek’s eyes, “I wouldn’t do anything that would make you uncomfortable.”

To be completely honest, Derek’s not sure if they’re still talking about modelling but he doesn’t exactly find himself caring, either. 

He takes a step forward, smirking when Stiles’ runs his tongue against his lips. 

They’re standing close, closer than is strictly professional, when Derek says, “I wouldn’t want to do anything that makes you uncomfortable, either.”

He thinks back to the way they’ve fallen into this easy thing since Derek first moved out here. The way Stiles shares information, just putting every thought forward as if he thinks it’s somehow relevant to the way Derek’s living his life. Now that Derek thinks about it, however, he realises that almost everything Stiles has to say is relevant because Stiles himself has somehow become relevant to Derek’s life.

He thinks about the obvious flirting attempts Stiles makes after photo shoots. The compliments Stiles gives whenever Derek is questioning his appearance before a shoot. He thinks about the way Stiles turns red whenever Lydia mentions something about Derek in a suggestive tone, and he thinks that he’s still sticking to his words.

This, here, isn’t anything that should make Stiles uncomfortable. 

But, Derek still waits, waits for Stiles to lean in closer, and now their breaths are mixing with one another’s when Stiles says, “That’s good.”

Derek’s the first to close the distance, angling his head to fit his lips against Stiles. It doesn’t take too long until Stiles is opening his mouth, his tongue running along the seam of Derek’s lips, asking for invitation, and Derek gives it to him. 

He’s half naked, one hand still trying to keep his towel up, and the other moving to the back of Stiles’ neck to bring him closer. 

They end up on the sofa, with Stiles sprawled over the top of Derek, slowly rutting his hips against Derek’s. 

The sofa is too small with not enough space for Stiles to really pin Derek down, so he finds himself moaning in content when Derek brings both of his hands up to grip firmly on his ass and grind their hips together. 

It’s not until Stiles squirms, feeling material shift beneath him, that he realises Derek’s lost his precious grip on the towel and he’s now completely naked and lying beneath Stiles. 

Stiles leans back taking in the sight beneath him before he pushes his way off of the sofa, pulling Derek into a sitting position. He kneels on the ground, his head at even height with Derek’s crotch.

“Oh my God,” Stiles breathes, his mouth just close enough for Derek to feel the hot air against his cock, “I’ve wanted to do this since I picked you up at LAX. I thought it was such a shame that you didn’t know me enough to let me drag you into a stall and get on my knees for you.”

Derek groans again, his hips thrusting uselessly before Stiles pins him back, his fingers firmly digging into Derek’s sides as he presses light kisses to the inside of his thighs. 

“Are you going to do it or just keep talking about how much you wanted to?” 

He’s hard. He’s achingly hard, and Stiles doesn’t seem to realise, or care, that Derek just needs to get off right now. 

Stiles finishes sucking a bruise into Derek’s inner thigh before he wraps one hand across the base of Derek’s cock, and Derek can hear the hitch in his own breath when Stiles licks a stripe from the base to the tip. 

Derek doesn’t realise his eyes had slipped shut at some point until Stiles has sucked him completely into his mouth, his free hand reaching up to grab one of Derek’s and relocating it to rest in Stiles’ hair. Stiles wraps his hand around Derek’s, indicating that it’s okay to pull his hair, before he lets go and the hand disappears back between Stiles’ legs.

It doesn’t take too long for Derek to come, after that. The image of Stiles on his knees, getting himself off, getting Derek off. Stiles comes practically at the same time, keeping his mouth wrapped tightly around Derek’s cock, only pulling off when he’s swallowed it all. 

He pulls off with an obscene popping sound, smirking when he moves up and pulls Derek into another kiss.

“God, you’re hot,” Stiles will say later, when they’ve relocated to the bedroom, “you should be a model.”

Derek will fondly roll his eyes, bringing Stiles in for another kiss.


End file.
